Our Last Night of Summer
by caprubia
Summary: Nine years after the Final Battle, Ron and Hermione reconnect romantically after her birthday. Romione. Fluff. One-shot (w/potential to be expanded). EWE


_**AN:** This is for TheMourningMadam's birthday. As a general rule, I don't read or write any canon ships in the HP universe because I think they're perfect as they are. My playground is exploring the impossible or what could've been. But MM is a Romione shipper (on the down low) so I stepped out of my comfort zone to give her a little bit of birthday themed fluff for her own birthday._

Happy Birthday to an absolutely wonderful person!

* * *

 _Saturday, September 22, 2007_

If it was not for Ginny Potter, Hermione Granger would not have thrown herself a birthday party. But Ginny kept bringing up how they only had a few years left of their twenties and needed to celebrate every moment. Plus, they did not have many excuses for a late-September get together. Since September 19th landed mid-week, Hermione Granger hosted a 'small' gathering of her closest friends for her 28th birthday the following Saturday. Despite keeping the guest list limited, over 30 people showed up for a casual evening of cake and sentimental toasts which lasted late into the night. Granted, the Weasleys and Potters alone counted for over a third of the attendance.

"You know, it's pretty hot out even though it's not summer anymore," Ron mused aloud.

"Actually, tonight's the last night of summer. The Autumn Equinox is tomorrow," Hermione smiled across the coffee table to him.

He leaned back into the cushions of the garden furniture and looked up through the glass ceiling. "The stars remind me of the Great Hall," Ron commented. "This conservatory turned out great. You know, Mum would love to have a sunroom at the Burrow. George and I have been trying to come up with an idea for our parents' 40th anniversary. It's coming up next year. If all six of us pitch in, I'm sure that we could buy and install a nice prefab one."

"I think that's a splendid idea. Count me in and split it seven ways."

"Hermione, you don't have to –" Ron started to say.

Hermione put her hand up to stop him from speaking, "No. Your parents have been there for me. I'd love to be part of the prezzie, if you'd let me. Plus, I've already done all of the research!"

Ron grinned, "I'll talk to George. I'm sure he'll go for it."

Hermione looked around, she had not realized that the time had slipped by and they were left alone together. Despite knowing each other for sixteen years, Ron and Hermione never ran out of things to talk about. Both of their jobs at the Ministry kept them busy yet they always made time for each other.

They had gone to hell and back together during their last few years at Hogwarts. After the Final Battle, the two entered into a short lived relationship that never got past heavy petting and lasted for the duration of a summer. Despite their apparent infatuation with each other, it became clear that friendship was all they could provide at the moment. It pained both to agree to end their summer romance and it caused short-lived tension between them. Harry quietly bounced between the pair without complaint for six months before he snapped and declared that they had to get over themselves, and be friends again. Since then, they had been inseparable, as always, except instead of being a trio they became a quartet with Ginny joining the mix.

"Where did everyone go? I don't remember anyone saying goodbye," Hermione laughed. "Am I a bad hostess?"

"Maybe," Ron smiled, "but I don't mind. I suppose I should head out, too."

As Ron was standing up, Hermione reached out and pulled him back to the sofa – this time next to her. Most nights she would relish having time for some pleasurable reading or to review case documents from work. But tonight she was not ready to say goodnight to one of her oldest friends.

"Stay… Please? We've got enough champagne left for at least a glass each. It'll be flat by morning and it'd be wasteful to pour it all out. Don't make me drink alone."

"Okay, I won't. But only because there's nothing more pathetic than drinking alone," Ron teased lightly.

Hermione felt his arm ghost hers as he leaned forward for his glass. She could feel the heat radiating off of his body. The night _was_ exceptionally warm and the champagne was anything but cooling. Ron's gaze landed on her mouth as she nibbled on her bottom lip.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Ron cleared his throat, "I hadn't mentioned it yet, but I was sorry to hear about Andrew."

Hermione scoffed, "I'm not."

"You're not? But he was a nice bloke."

"Nice," Hermione mused. Hermione's eyes flittered about the empty room as if she was looking for eavesdroppers, "Do you promise not to tell anyone?"

"Of course," Ron agreed, nodding his head like a dashboard bobblehead doll. Hermione could not help but smile while looking into his blue eyes, wide and ready to hear her secrets.

"Andrew was _boring_. And _rigid_. Yes, he was _nice_. But without consulting me, he planned the next 15 years of our lives. Probably even the next 40. When we'd get married, how many kids we'd have, how much money to save for retirement. Nine o'clock bedtimes and no spontaneity. He blanched when I suggested taking an impromptu weekend trip to Vienna because I wanted to visit my favorite chocolatier.

"Andrew said to me, 'You want to visit a _confectionary shop_?' in a tone sounding as if I had suggested inviting Draco Malfoy over for tea and crumpets. Confectionary! As though some of the best chocolate in the world was equivalent to a Honeydukes pit stop.

"After spending most of our teenage years fighting adult battles, I thought that I craved rules and structure. Sometimes it felt nice to have a sense of security with him but most of the time I felt smothered."

"I had no idea he was so… square. If you don't want rules, then what do you want?" Ron knitted his brows into a slight frown.

"I like rules, Ron. But I'd like someone who was willing to bend them occasionally. I want someone who'll owl in sick with me because there's an Audrey Hepburn marathon on the telly. Someone who believes that handmade gifts are real gifts. Someone who doesn't wear socks while having sex!"

"He wore socks while having sex?" The corner of his mouth twitched as he tried to suppress a chuckle.

"Every time!" Hermione said in a fit of giggles, "He'd stop foreplay to go put on a pair if he had been wearing slippers. His feet got cold!"

The pair dissolved into synchronized laughter. Hermione found herself watching Ron as his entire body shook. It never failed to surprise her how far they had come together over the years. There was a time where neither of them had the energy to find moments of joy. Rebuilding post-war had not been an easy feat. Everyone was left exhausted. If it meant laughing at her expense, Hermione would gladly divulge embarrassing details of her life just to see a broad smile grace Ron's face.

His eyes sparkled with mirth as he lazily reached up to stretch, letting his shirt ride up slightly. Not all Aurors maintained a high level of fitness but Ron's physique had become more defined over the years. Hermione blushed and averted her eyes, but not before she got an eyeful of his sculpted abdomen.

"Alright… new subject. Enough about my failed love life. What about yours? You never told me why your engagement with Sally-Anne ended last year," Hermione commented while pouring them both more champagne.

"Sally. Sally-Anne Perks," Ron said slowly as if trying to interpret a foreign language. He shook his head, "I never told anyone. Not you, not Harry. Especially not my mum."

"Not to use emotional blackmail, but didn't I just pour my heart out about why I couldn't keep dating Andrew? No one else knows about the socks," Hermione said nudging his shoulder with her own.

"I'm not sure I should tell you," Ron set his glass down and stood up abruptly. He ran his fingers through his hair repeatedly. While Ron was an excellent chess player, he projected every emotion across his face and would never fare well in a game of poker.

Slowly he turned and looked at Hermione. It was apparent that he was struggling with what to say. Hermione had not seen Ron this nervous since he tried out for quidditch. Only this time there was no one to confund to make the situation better. Her mind raced trying to make sense of his agitation. Did Ron Weasley cheat on his fiancée? Did they have problems in the bedroom? She could not imagine Ron to be anything but attentive in bed, Hermione idly thought.

"Did you realize that the last time we were both single at the same time was four years ago? I didn't date anyone for a year after Jane and before Sally-Anne. You were broken up with Oliver, before you went out with Marco for a while. In the last seven or eight years, this is only the second time that we're both not seeing people."

"To be honest, I never gave it much thought," her cheeks burned scarlet at the lie. Of course Hermione thought about how things may have gone differently. But Ron had been engaged to be married. Sure, Sally was forgettable while at Hogwarts and even now Hermione was not able to recall which house she was sorted into. But Sally-Anne was sweet and Hermione would never stand in the way of Ron's happiness.

"I did," Ron uttered quietly. "A week before we called off our engagement, Sally had a friend over. I can't remember who anymore. But they were arguing about some stupid fact about Hogwarts. You remember the _Hogwarts, A History_ book you gave me?"

Hermione screwed her face in confusion, trying to follow Ron's train of thought. "Yes? I think so."

"I kept it on a shelf in my closet. I don't think I read it once but it reminded me of you. Which is probably why I stored a letter in it. A letter to you."

"A letter?"

"Fuck, I had forgotten that it was even there. I moved house twice with it folded up between the pages."

"Ron, what was in the letter," Hermione asked carefully, reaching up for his hand. He glanced at her hand in his for a moment. When he looked up, Hermione had to keep from letting out an audible gasp.

She knew what the letter contained.

"Everything," Ron said holding her gaze with an intensity that sent a warmth throughout her body. "The note was dated and Sally-Anne gave me an out to deny what was written, or say that it was all in the past."

Ron sat down on the sofa, still holding her hand. "Hermione, you are my only regret. Truth is, I have never fallen out of love with you."

"I don't understand why you hid it," Hermione almost whispered. "Why didn't you give it to me then?"

"Remember when I went undercover for five months? I didn't know how long I was going to be gone and I couldn't give it to you knowing that we wouldn't have had any contact. When I came back, you were dating again."

"And now?" Hermione's heart drummed in her ears.

"Now? I want to kiss you." Before she had a chance to react, Ron's face dipped down and his lips gently brushed hers.

Instead of pulling away, Ron rested his forehead on Hermione's. The two were both breathing raggedly as thoughts swirled through her mind. Every inch of her felt on fire.

"Say something," Ron softly implored.

This felt right. Ron had been her best friend since she was 12 years old. Nine years earlier was not the right time for them. As they neared upon the 10th anniversary of the Final Battle, Hermione understood the emotional growth they both achieved. They were no longer the virginal teenagers drowning from the wreckage of war. They were strong, pillars in their community and in their own lives.

Their noses were lightly touching with their lips mere centimeters apart. Hermione tilted her chin forward and closed the gap.

As soon as she made contact, Ron responded eagerly. Years of bottled up emotions flowed through his lips, and Hermione responded in kind. His arms were around her and pulled her flush against his chest. Her hands threaded his hair and she felt a groan rumble deep in his chest as she grazed her nails against his scalp.

Ron slowed down their pace and leaned Hermione back, shifting his body to be above her. He covered her neck with hot, open kisses that reflected their last night of summer.

Sultry. Languid. Scorching.

Hermione looked up at the stars, remembering where they were located. "Ron, I think that we should –" Hermione started to say as she gently nudged him off of her.

"I'm sorry," Ron said as he pulled away with a panicked look.

"Ron –"

"I mucked us up, didn't I? You really deserve better. You've been drinking and I should've been more mindful of your breakup, and it's all fresh for you and here I am –" He rambled as he assumed the worst.

"Ron. Shut up," Hermione said, grabbing his face. "Nothing is mucked up. I want this, I want you. I was trying to suggest moving this to my bedroom. I don't think the patio furniture can handle any... vigorous activity."

"Oh. OH!"

Hermione stood up and started leading him to her bedroom. After all this time, they managed to find their way back together.

* * *

 **AN:** This was supposed to be a one shot. But I'm leaving it open to become a two-shot in case I want to write their night together (and maybe the morning after!).

Also, a conservatory or sunroom is a room attached to the outside of the house. Technically they're two different things (the internet says that sunrooms do not have glass roofs) but these days conservatory and sunrooms are synonyms for each other. Most of my family in England have a conservatory attached to their house. They're glass rooms that look like a greenhouse but have furniture in them instead of plants.

Fun fact, there was actually a character named Sally-Anne Perks in their first year sorting, house unknown. She was never mentioned again.


End file.
